


The First DragonKing Of Erebor

by 87Tam_the_piemaker87



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: #dragons, #smaug, Elves, M/M, Mpreg, Peter Jackson - Freeform, The Hobbit - Freeform, Thu'um, interbreeding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/87Tam_the_piemaker87/pseuds/87Tam_the_piemaker87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil were lovers before the fall of Erebor. Thranduil was knocked unconscious during the siege and woke to the wrath of a Fire drake. Six decades later, Thorin is not what he used to be, and Thranduil finds comfort in another's arms...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,   
> this started out as a co-written piece but I took it elsewhere and skipped ahead quite far.  
> This is my first fic on here so be gentle XD  
> Hope you enjoy!!!

"It is my birth right, You bastard!" Thorin bellowed, pinning the Elf further into the marble bridge. He looked at Thranduil's outstretched arm, and the gloved hand that coveted the arkenstone.

"Give it back!" He growled, reaching for it as further grunts of struggling and the fight for power resonated through the halls. Thranduil shook his head and groaned as Thorin's knee pushed forcefully into his ribs. 

"It will ruin you..." He panted darkly, loosening his hand for the arkenstone to tumble down into the seemingly bottomless pit, and watching fearfully as Thorin's face contorted into a tormented rage, and he felt a hand wrap firmly around his throat. With a fearsome cry, the king under the mountain began to choke him. 

"You filthy pig, degenerate thief. You will take my jewel from me? The King's jewel? Well it is not the only birth right of mine in this hall. And be assured, I will have at least one of them." Thorin hissed viciously, giving the Elvenprince a chance to breathe as he removed himself from Thranduil, forcing him onto his stomach. The Dwarf King unsheathed a dagger and cut from the Elf's body the folds of glistening material of his robe. He tore them aside as Thranduil whimpered in his bountiless struggle. 

"Thorin please - you are better than this!" he cried. 

"I have been waiting years for this." Thorin moaned, burying his mouth in Thranduil's porcelain neck before yanking his head to the side. 

"You, the precious pearl, my grandfather's bride. Mine, now." he leered into Thranduil's ear, snaking his tongue over flushed, tear stained cheeks. He cut the Elf's trousers from him, grazing the skin of his arse as he did. Thranduil gasped in pain. Smirking, the Dwarf ran his fingers roughly over the fresh wound, collecting the precious blood and lifting it to his lips. It made him shudder with lust - the taste, the power, the pain, whilst Thranduil shuddered in a fearful silence as he craned his neck to watch. 

"You should taste yourself, jewel." He chuckled, pinning Thranduil's wrists behind his back before unfastening his belt, and bringing his half erect member out. He groaned weakly, trembling with desire as with his spare hand he squeezed the wounded cheek and rubbed the head of his dripping length along it, come mixing with blood. He slid the engorged cock between Thranduil's cheeks, sighing at the friction as the Elf's cries echoed throughout the hall, whom could do nothing but pleadingly repeat the Dwarf's name. 

"Be silent, slut." Thorin whispered, forcing his hands tighter against the Prince's wrists to combat resistance.  
He slid his soaking manhood against the creamy curves of skin once more before pressing the tip of its head into the Elf's entrance, the tight ring of muscle that threatened to part from him bringing his desire to it's peak. 

"You were always my king, and I your jewel, your birth right. Yours." Thranduil muttered lowly. 

"But if you do this to me now, I will not be able to forgive you. And I will not look back." not a second passed after this before Thorin forced himself to the hilt into the unstretched hole, as if in a lustful daze, a sense of possession, as if no words or hands or minds could touch him. Thranduil squealed hoarsely at the agony of being torn open.   
Kili watched from a distance with sad eyes. He wished to do something to prevent it, though out of cowardice and fear for himself he could not will his feet to move. And so his punishment was to watch the whole gruesome scene unfold before his eyes. He finally managed to tear his eyes away, thinking to run to Fili and Bilbo - the two that truly did care about the Elf, but before he could go anywhere a fearful scream on Thorin's part echoed through the halls. When he turned, Kili saw a man of striking height dangling Thorin by the throat over the bridge. He had death in his amber eyes. 

"No, please don't hurt him! He's sick!" Kili cried, watching the scene with nauseating panic. Fiery eyes snapped to him. 

"What do I care for your sickness, little Dwarf?! When you come and plunder my caverns?!" The voice was strict and thunderous, and Kili could have sworn that he had heard something akin to it in the clouds during wild and visious storms.

"Please Sir, I grant that the only reason you attacked him is because you want rid of the commotion here, and to find some peace once more. Set him down and we will see to that, but cast him over the edge and I tell you that you will find no peace when the others find you guilty for the death of their king!" He pleaded. Smaug flicked his gaze between the Prince and the struggling Dwarf at his hand, breathing leveling from fierce and quick as he pondered this. He set Thorin down rudely, bending down to scoop the shaking, vulnerable Elf into his arms before turning his glare back to Thorin. 

"You /will/ leave." He said threateningly, storming off back to whence he came, Thranduil sliding his arms around the dragon's neck weakly and silently. Both Dwarves shared a short look of sheer relief.


	2. Schemes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has found his comfort and a plan is to be hatched. Smaug is protective.

Smaug carried the Elf to his chambers, laying him on his stomach to begin treating the wound. "He had no right to treat you like that." He said softly, realising that to clean Thranduil's wounds, he would need to touch water.

"I don't care how 'sick' he was." He spat, rooting through the dresser and pulling a pair of leather gloves from them.

"You belong to me, do you understand? Does he not understa-"

"He has the only right to treat me like that. Don't you know who he is? He's the only heir to Erebor. Thorin II. I was wedded to his grandfather, and by Dwarven law, now both his Grandfather and Father are dead I am to be passed onto him. I am his property, by law." Thranduil said brokenly, closing his eyes.

"Well Erebor is fallen and its laws invalid. It follows my law now, that everything within it belongs to me." Smaug muttered, pouring some water into a basin and sending a few burst of fire to it to warm it up.

"Hold still. This is going to hurt." He said softly, dabbing at Thranduil's bloodied skin. He washed the wound, watching the creamy, perfectly curved skin as he did.

"Why did you save me?" The Elf broke the silence, wincing at the sting of the water before burying his face in his arms. Smaug rolled his eyes.

"I told you, you pretty little idiot. You belong to me. You are mine. Nobody has the right to touch you." He said coldly, drying off the other's skin and moving to find a bandage. Thranduil sighed, before nodding.

"Well...thank you." Smaug combed some hair behind the Elf's ear gently, sitting beside him.

"Do you want to be in my arms?" He murmured, receiving a small nod, and he removed the remnants of the Elf's clothes before gently lifting him onto his lap as he sobbed.

"Don't shed your tears over that beast."

"But I love him. At least - I did once. We fell in love, and when we were separated I felt a part of me perish." He said quietly. Smaug tutted and caressed the tears away gently.

"You sweet thing. It was never love. He clearly doesn't want you now, to treat you in such a manner. Dwarves are despicable creatures."

"Not him...never him." Thranduil said emptily, gazing to the long forgotten fireplace, webbed over by spiders.

"Yes, him. You don't deserve him. You deserve someone strong, who keeps to his words, and who protects you at all costs, and who isn't afraid to destroy the people who hurt you. You need a -"

"A dragon?" Thranduil chuckled, wiping his eyes. Smaug smirked and nodded.

"Precisely. Just say the word and I will incinerate all of them." Thranduil thought on this for a long moment.

"Fili, Kili, Balin and Ori stay. The rest, I couldn't care less. Thorin, I want him at my feet. Begging for mercy, and I will pretend to consider it, before you charcoal him." He said darkly, sitting up on Smaug's lap.

"And then the throne will be yours for the taking." The dragon raised his brow in surprise.

"You're a dark little thing when you want to be. You think that I would make a good King?" He murmured, twirling a lock of silvery hair around his clawed finger. Thranduil shook his head and smiled softly. 

"No, not King. Your people would scream your name, and cry out for their leader, for their... _Jun_." He grinned. The dragon frowned.

"Where did you learn that word, Elf?" He asked sternly, removing his hand from the Elf's hair.

"I learned it from books. I am quite fluent in your language now, díí dilas, suleykäar Dovahjun." Thranduil whispered silkily, sighing as he felt the Dragon's hands wrap tightly around his waist, and as he realised just how much pleasure Smaug was extracting from this.

"Arhrk hí," The beast began, eyes slightly heavy as he rocked his hips up into the Elf.

"Arhrk hí laan wah vos Kíim díí? Díí Dovahjud, norok arhrk brit?" He breathed.

"Geh, Inhus. Zu'u _fen_ vos." They tumbled into a passionate kiss, Smaug groaning into it as he imagined the reality of it.

"Then you will have your wish, díí norok mal Kulaan. I will see your enemies perish and I will rule this Kingdom from the throne, and it will be legendary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Speech -http://www.thuum.org/
> 
> Jun - King 
> 
> Dii dilas, suleykäar, Dovahjun - My deadly, powerful DragonKing.
> 
> Arhrk hi laan wah vos Kíim díí? Díí Dovahjud, norok arhrk brit? - And you would be my wife? My Dragon Queen, fierce and beautiful? 
> 
> Geh, Inhus. Zu'u fen vos - Yes Master, I /will/ be. 
> 
> Díí norok mal Kulaan - My fierce little Prince. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!! :D


	3. The Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug fulfills his promise to Thranduil.

The company had been captured with relative ease. A roaring fount of fire, a snap of his jaw, and the dragon had rounded them all up in the throne room, and brought his faithful accomplice to distinguish between them all. Thranduil had sidled up to the throne silently, at Smaug's feet, eyes bearing coldly into Thorin as the room fell gradually silent.

"Kili is the young one, with dark hair and only stubble. Fili is his brother, with blonde hair like a lion. Ori is the youngest, with the cardigan, and Balin is the eldest and his hair is white." He said clearly, eyes never leaving Thorin. Smaug nodded, and having no guards for the present moment he stepped down from the throne and separated the four from the rest of the company. The struggles sounded throughout the empty hall, Balin and Bilbo the only one's wise enough to realise that nothing could prevent this. 

"What do you want with us?!" Kili cried above it all. 

"Some King." Thorin spat at Smaug. 

"Taking orders from a little Elf. Come here Thranduil, like a good boy, and untie me. I promised that I'll never hurt you again if you only come to us now."  
Thranduil and Smaug shared a brief glance, the Elf shaking his head. 

"No. Do not concern yourself with me now. You'll have enough on your mind in a moment." He said softly, turning back to Smaug and nodding. Thorin scowled. 

"You are my property. I tell you now to get to my side or I will force you here myself."

"No, Thorin! I will remain here, where I belong, where I know I am safe."

"You would be safe with me if you ever shut that whore mouth of yours!" Thorin bellowed. The hall fell silent again. Smaug clutched to the arm of the throne in trying to keep his anger under control. Thranduil stared coolly at the Dwarf King. 

"You would have had everything, all of it, if only you hadn't been an ungrateful little imp." 

"Koraav saraan, mal Kulaan. Daar los ní fah hin miin." Smaug said gently to Thranduil as he felt his control begin to slip, and as Thorin pressed on with his abuse. 

"You'd rather have a beast than a King, you pathetic thing? I don't know why I ever loved you!"

"No." Thranduil murmured, ignoring the Dwarf. 

"I want to watch. Krii ok." It was short and quick, and would have been relatively painless for Thranduil if Thorin hadn't screamed. And they were such harrowing screams as his skin melted from his flesh, and his flesh from his bone as the fire engulfed him, illuminating the hall with a soft orange glow. The Dwarfs were in desperate uproar, some even throwing themselves to Thorin in a vain attempt to help him. More screams chimed. The flames were given more life by the sadistic Dragon. The stench of burned flesh rose thickly into the air, causing the Elf to wrinkle his nose as he walked blankly up to the charcoaled carcasses.

"I told you I would not look back." He said coldly, the company's wails fading into the background as he did. 

"You Bastards!" Kili screamed violently, esophagus almost rupturing from the emotion he threw into it. 

"He was sick! You knew that, Thranduil! It happened to Thror!" 

"I do not have to justify myself to you. Consider yourself lucky to be alive." Thranduil spat, walking back to his spot at Smaug's feet. 

"What should I do with them?" The dragon asked coldly, lacing his fingers into the Elf's platinum hair.

"Take them away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Koraav saraan, mal Kulaan. Daar los ní fah hin miin." - look away, little Prince. This is not for your eyes.
> 
> "Krii ok." - Kill him. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	4. Establishing Relationships. (Aka A Certain Dragon Is Put In His Place.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst planning their bufferzone of armies to protect their recovering Kingdom, Smaug and Thranduil come to a slight hiccup in the road.

Securing an army had been the most stressful part of the velvet invasion, though the relationship between the Elf and the dragon had only strengthened, each obstacle bringing them closer together. But Thranduil did not know where they stood with each other. He did not know how the dragon felt about him. One moment Smaug was doting and sweet. On these days he would pull the Elf aside and into rough animalistic kisses, thrusting him against the nearest wall and bury his face into his neck as if trying to absorb his very essence. The next moment he was cold and stern. He would snap at the Elf when he tried to ask simple questions. Even the smallest request was met with a snarl and a bout of indignation.  
Presently, he was in a wonderful mood. He had sat Thranduil on his lap and peppered him with light kisses whenever he spoke all morning, treating him like a little doll. It was around noon when Thranduil actually plucked up the courage to ask him where they stood. Smaug was trailing a clawed finger along a map of Middle Earth, plotting - with Thranduil's help - the places with the biggest armies.

"How do you feel about me?"  
The dragon man froze in his work, claw resting over Laketown. His face showed little difference. His long eyelashes provided a dark fringe to hide the reaction of his lowered eyes, and his mouth was slightly parted with shock. Finally, a small frown touched upon his brow, and he looked up at the Elf.

"You're my partner in all of this, truly you are. Why?"   
Thranduil shook his head. 

"I mean outside of this all. How do you feel about me? As a person?"

"Is this going to secure an army?" Smaug asked coldly, reverting to the map. 

"Well, maybe. I have to know where my head is to work well with you. If we're not strong together, then how can we make a strong kingdom?" The Elf gasped as he was lifted suddenly, dumped onto the desk, pushed  onto his back and pulled forcefully by his thinly concealed hips toward the other all in one fluid motion. He turned his head to the side, profusely blushing when a long, forked tongue brushed across his heated cheek, and hot lips touched upon his ear. 

"I'll show you how damn strong I am," Smaug growled, gathering Thranduil's ivory robe in his hand and lifting it around his hips. He began to rut against him. 

"I am far strong enough for the both of us."   
Thranduil shook his head, moaning softly as the dragon pressed himself closer.

"Come now, let me show you this. Let me show you how much you mean to me, hmm? Make this whole nasty debate go away..." He smirked, unlacing his breeches and rubbing himself against that sweet, tight hole, met only with a small hum of pleasure. 

"You already seem ready for me. But I'm not so cruel as to take you so quickly. As roughly as that little Dwarf." 

"I am not a slave." Thranduil said sternly, sitting up and turning the tables with all the true agility of an Elf. He straddled the dragon's hips, glare fading into a lustful gaze and his lips curling into a smirk. Smaug quirked a brow. 

"You think me so delicate and feeble." The Elf drawled, pressing himself to the hardening source of heat beneath him. His eyes fluttered shut as a pair of clawed hands made their way to his thighs.

"I'm not. I can hold my own." He murmured, unlacing Smaug's breeches. From cool Amber eyes the dragon watched, gazing intently at the other's graceful fingers and then his own raging manhood, smirking, waiting for the Elf's reaction, which was nothing less than honourable. Thranduil fixed his eyes upon it, it's half pale, half scaled appearance and small thorned head rendering him paralysed with fear.

"What are they?" He frowned. 

"Hooks, my dear." Smaug grinned, sitting up suddenly and bringing  the Elf to his chest.

"To keep myself inside you if you try to struggle away. Do you still plan upon dominating me?" Thranduil moved away and thrust the dragon back down, tearing away his trousers.  

"I don't see how they will bother me when I'm fucking you into the table. They'll have nothing to latch onto." He grinned, looking into the Dragon's eyes as he rubbed a gentle finger along his entrance, before penetrating him without warning. Smaug hissed, eyes flaming with rage. 

"That hurts!" 

"Well this isn't for your pleasure, Dovah Mal. It is to teach you a lesson." The Elf growled. Smaug jolted up, bringing the other toward him in a fit of fury. 

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TOUCH ME LIKE THAT, FRAIL LITTLE PRINCE! I OWN YOU! YOU ARE MY TREASURE, MY ELF, A THING TO BE TOUCHED BY ME, TO BE DEFILED!" Thranduil firmly set his jaw as the dragon laid vile claim to him, eyes ice cold upon him. 

"ALL YOU ARE IS A PART OF MY HOARD! THE FACT THAT I EVEN ALLOW YOU TO LOOK UPON ME IS BLESSING ENOUGH! YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL FOR THAT." 

"If all I am is a jewel to you then plot your revolution yourself! Find your own armies!" Thranduil snapped, looking bitingly at the other. Smaug frowned and lessened his hold slightly as he calmed down, taking the Elf's words into account. 

"Exactly. You need me but you cannot take me seriously, and therein lies your downfall. We must be equals in this, and you must listen to my input regardless of physical strength, do you understand me? I am not merely your pet, for you to caress and toy with whenever it takes your fancy. I can offer you mental agility and most importantly strategy from experience, something you significantly lack. I will not take another moment of you throwing me around like a toy and treating me like a newborn kitten, do you understand me? You will not do so unless I give you permission. If you lay a harmful finger upon me I will walk out of this mountain and back to my own people." Thranduil said sternly, clearly, eyes scanning the Dragon's face, which seemed nothing short of apologetic in light of recent events. 

After a long moment of consideration, smaug slowly nodded, impressed by the Elf's confidence and assertiveness, and removed his hands completely from his loose collar out of respect.   
Thranduil smiled. 

"Now, I'll ask again. What do you think of me as a person?" 

Smaug looked up at his partner disbelievingly, before clearing his throat as he made to answer. 

"I think you are very confident and willful, which in turn gives you power because people are too fearful of your demeanour to run the risk of questioning your threats. I think that you are very beautiful, even more so now I have seen this side of you, and I think that I would like you by my side as an equal in my quest to reclaim Erebor. In our quest."   
Satisfied with this answer, Thranduil looked upon the other for a moment before pulling up a chair to sit beside him. 

"Good. I accept." He nodded, all contempt draining from him as he leaned in to study the map. 

"Now Laketown won't have a very good army at all at this point. I would advise that we call upon bigger armies to begin with, such as that of Gondor. Men are greedy when it comes to gold, their interest will peak at the prospect of rebuilding such a prosperous kingdom. Elves would swiftly turn their noses up and the Dwarves are hardly going to aid us after we've incinerated their kin. Men are our best bet. After we've acquired the bigger armies, we can use generals from them to train the people of Laketown and smaller places, so that we have troops at all stations..." 

Smaug watched the Elf plan their route with a newfound respect, an intent interest, and even a simmer of love. And from that moment on there was no more of his snapping, or his cold indignation. At least...not toward Thranduil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dovah Mal - Little Dragon
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	5. A Shocking Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News is given on the development of Dale and Bard points something out that's gone unnoticed.

The people of Laketown had pretty much fallen to their knees before Smaug and Thranduil at the prospect of being ruled by a genuine king. One who planned to govern and look out for his people. Bard was amongst them, and had volunteered himself as the Elf-king's personal steward and had eagerly accepted the title of Mayor of Dale. This meant he worked in close personal range with both rulers, being the head of reparations, and as he was falling as swiftly in love with Thranduil as his father had this wasn't a problem. He had heard stories from his father when he was younger, endless stories, of the beautiful Elf Prince with eyes of bottomless blue and a voice so silvery it could calm the wildest of Balrogs. With hair so silken and long it seemed of liquid starlight. The beautiful, pearly Prince who had been left to rot in Erebor to bear the Dwarf king's child under the scrutiny of a dragon. Legend had it - and there were many - that he had called on the help of mithrandir to send it away for a better life. Others had it that he had lost it during the fall and had to bear a still born. Those eyes spoke of tragedy, Bard thought to himself as he stepped up to the recently fitted twin thrones and looked into them. In the very early days Thranduil would sit on the Dragon King's lap. But it was assured that they were equals in this task, and as such Thranduil would suffer no less than an equally sized throne beside the original.  
Bard duely noted that Smaug's throne was empty, and he heard a roar of a rant in the distant halls. A small, silken smirk spread across Thranduil's pretty lips.

"He's off on another diatribe. Isn't it precious?" He said cooly.

"As precious as the treasures surrounding him." Bard laughed, earning himself a chuckle in response.

"How are the reparations coming along?" The Elvenking asked intently, crossing his delicate legs and gesturing for Bard to step closer. 

"Well, My Lord. We have ample food and as no time limit has been set, the atmosphere is relaxed. We are all enjoying it."

"How come the houses? Are there enough living spaces? What of the citadel and its murals?" Thranduil pressed as Smaug joined them, eyes fading from his furious amber to a calm, intoxicating blue. 

"You've fought with someone. We'll speak of it later." The dragon man nodded and sat at his throne, receiving a bow from Bard.

"The houses have been our main focus, so that we are sheltered whilst the other work is completed. The murals will be restored, on pain of my death, my kings."

"This is welcome news." Thranduil smiled, seeming to relax, narrow shoulders almost slumping. Then he tensed again as a thought occured to him. 

"And the children? Are they all well? Protected?" He asked softly. There was something in his voice, a special kind of concern behind it. Smaug's clawed hand entwined with his and gently squeezed it to offer comfort. 

"They are wonderful my lord. My own grow stronger with every passing day." Thranduil sighed with relief and waved Smaug's hand away.

"My Lord, have you been feeling quite alright? Nothing out of the ordinary happening, if you don't mind my asking?" Bard asked softly, glancing down to Thranduil's stomach fondly, though it broke his heart to know he was not the cause. Thranduil frowned in deep confusion, eyes following Bard's and landing upon his own stomach. There, barely detectable, hardly noticed for how preoccupied both men had been, was a tiny round bump forming.

"Oh my..." he turned to Smaug, eyes glassing over, unreadable. 

"You don't think...do you?"  
Smaug had been looking at the bump in awe, eyes blown wide but crinkling in something akin to joy. He ghosted his hand over it tenderly.

"We'll have to ask your doctor." He smiled, looking adoringly at his Elf before tearing his eyes away to land on Bard.  


Thank you for pointing it out. I'm not sure when we would have noticed." He nodded.  


"Is there anything you require to hurry along reparations? Whilst there is no time limit, we do wish to have you up and running hastily. And if my beloved does have a little one on the way, we'll want to raise him in a stable kingdom."He said calmly. Bard shook his head.

"No thank you, My Lords. You've given us much, and we will strive to meet your requirements." He grinned, bowing deeply and taking note of the lack of emotion in Thranduil's face. Little did he know that as soon as he would be dismissed, the Elf's face would contort into a visage of fear and resent.

"No...no no no." He began worriedly, lacing his hands into his hair and shaking his head. Smaug took his hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Hush now. If it turns out to be true then surely this is good news? Do you not wish to carry my child?" He asked softly, frowning and and caressing the other's cheek as tears began to run down it.

 

"I can't..I can't lose another one. I couldn't bear it Smaug, it'd kill me.."

"Listen to me, we have wonderful doctors here. Your good friend Elrindir became one of the best this side of the misty mountains, did he not? And it was because of trauma, but now there will be nothing to frighten or strain you. I promise you my love, if I'd known that I would come to love you as I do, if I'd known you were in that condition, I would have waited to burn down Erebor."

 

"And then incinerated both me and the child?" Thranduil smiled joylessly.

 

"I forgive you for it, you know I do. You couldn't have known. But...what if I slip and land on my stomach? What if it has its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck? What if it just dies in its cradle like so many others do? I'm telling you, I can't go through this again." He sobbed quietly, burying his face into Smaug's neck. The dragon sighed and kissed his head, before running a hand over his stomach again.

 

"But think of all the benefits. Think of its first words and steps. Which features of either of us it'll have. Think of what we would name the child, either genders." He began, moving to kneel between Thranduil's legs and kiss the tiny bump. Thranduil looked down at him, shocked into silence by the other's compassion.

 

"Think of what sort of clothes we could have made, what stories we'll read it at night. Think of its tiny hand wrapping around your finger, looking up at you with all the trust and love it can muster." 

 

"That...was beautiful. Thank you." The Elf smiled, stroking his thumb along Smaug's cheek.  
"We'd just better hope this is a baby and not a big dinner bubbling away in there." Smaug laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for taking so long with updates but since I haven't planned the storyline it takes me ages to figure out where I'm gonna go with each chapter. Thanks for sticking by me, you may be rewarded with smut at some point ;)


	6. Plans elsewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evil is afoot in other lands.  
> Thranduil is feeling the strain, poor thing.

Dain Ironfoot drummed his heavy fingers upon his desk rythmically, paying scant attention to the advisors and generals crowded within the drawing room.  
Murmurs echoed here and there, but mostly they all waited with baited breath for what their lord had to say.

"So he slaughters my cousin, holds my kin captive, and now they have the audacity to try to spread their filth to the rest of middle earth." He grunted, stroking his beard as he displayed an eerie level of passive aggression.

"I won't stand for it. We will gather our army and march on them."

"My Lord -" one general began uneasily.

"They have each elven army on their side. They even have the men of Laketown, and other men are easily bought."  
Dain thought on this, before sniffing indignantly.

"You forget that men are also deeply proud. They would despise to be under the rule of a dragon. They like to consider themselves free. If we offer to preserve this freedom, and chuck in some of Erebor's gold, Gondor and Rohan will throw themselves at us.  
Besides...rumour has it that the beast has gotten it's pretty whore pregnant. Thranduil's already miscarried once. It would be a shame if something were to happen to the lad, should one of our agents be roaming around the palace. It would crush the dragon, perhaps even lower his defenses."  
The attendees listened intently and stopped to revel in their lord's genius. 

"We'll need to win over someone in Laketown." Someone piped up. 

\- - - - - 

Alfrid Lickspittle did not consider himself a particularly lucky man. His fall from grace as the Master's servant had left him homeless and jobless, and none of his pathetic piers extended even a little aid or sympathy to him. 

So when an opportunity presented itself to ruin the lives of the very people who had seen to his downfall, and make a heap of gold, he leapt at it without a second thought. All he had to do was gain entry to the palace and get close to the Elf and ensure an 'accident' took place.

Luck finally smiled upon him because as it happened, he used to be a reputable tailor, and Thranduil would be needing many new clothes.

\- - - - - 

The morning sickness had begun. It was a particularly challenging morning of it when a guest arrived from Laketown, claiming to bear a gift for Thranduil.  
After one last round of wretching, with Smaug pulling back his hair and whispering soothing words to him, the Elf managed to freshen himself up and practically collapse onto his throne. 

The sight before him was nothing out of the ordinary - a rather wretched looking man gazing at him with his hands knotted behind his back. Though this one had a large box.

"State your name and your business." He demanded, his Jun taking his own seat beside him and gazing coolly down at the man. 

"Alfrid Lickspittle, My radiant Lord. At your humble service." The man bowed deeply.

"My business? I'm a good tailor round these parts, Sires, and I specialise in maternity wares. I've come to gift you some clothes that are a guaranteed fit, that you may consider me in the near future." 

Smaug raised a brow coldly and nodded. Then bring them to my dove, do not keep him waiting." He quipped, and Alfrid did as asked. Thranduil very nearly gasped at the sheer beauty and quality of  the shimmering garments, the likes of which he hadn't encountered in decades.

"Thank you, Mr. Lickspittle. I will definitely consider you." He smiled politely. Alfrid bowed and thanked them for their time, turning to take his leave with a triumphant, twisted grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very long time coming. Pretty short, yes, but I'd like to think eventful.  
> Hope you all enjoyed, and didn't give up on me! XD


	7. Alfrid's Plans. (Thranduil is a little delicate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mood swings are causing havoc in the palace, but a more sinister problem lurks around the corner.

Smaug had been perusing the library for books that would interest his beloved. By now they had plenty of servants to do it, but he wanted to care for the Elf himself. He wanted to be there every step of the way. In this, he was unlike other dragons.

He strolled back to their chambers, speeding up mid-walk as he heard sniffling within. When he swung the door open he frowned deeply to find Thranduil standing at the window and sobbing his heart out, tears fully streaming down his cheeks.

His hand was firmly planted over his mouth and his spare hand tried to wipe the tears away, and he didn't even acknowledge Smaug. 

"What troubles you, my love?" Smaug rushed to him, cupping his flushed face with both hands. Thranduil shook his head frantically and his tears thickened.

"No, tell me." 

"It's-s ssilly." The Elf stammered, trembling as the dragon embraced him, careful of his engorged stomach and shaking his head.

"I-I jjust...I saw -" he breathed,

"I saw a-a baby squirrel scuttling along the grass - and - and it's mother was just ahead, and a hawk swooped down and carried it away!" He cried, wracked by even heavier sobs now.

"I - I don't...I don't know why I'm like this!"   
Smaug laughed ever so discreetly at the other's compassion.   
The doctor had said that this would happen. Something to do with some sort of imbalance to do with the pregnancy...he didn't know what any of it meant.   
But it would cause Thranduil to act erratically, and overreact to things that would usually not seem so significant. 

"That sounds horrific my darling." He said softly, submerging a smile and kissing the Elf's hair.

"But now the hawk can take it to its nest, and help to feed its own little babies, no?" 

Thranduil considered this and buried his face into Smaug's neck in an attempt to squeeze out the rest of his tears. Then the door knocked. 

"Who is it?" Smaug demanded. 

"Bard, my Lord." The Dovahjun looked down at his Elf, wiping his tears away and looking to him for confirmation, before receiving a nod.

"Enter."

Bard had become an advisor and decent friend of the both of them, and saw almost as much of the pregnancy as Smaug - good and bad. 

He had barely stepped aside, for example, when Smaug commented on how his new robe fit in all the right places, and out of nowhere he flung a dagger so that it just skimmed the dragon's nose and impailed a book case, and fumed at him for objectifying Elves. 

He had also been there for the more vulnerable moments such as this, and so he barely bat an eyelash when he found Thranduil's face red with fresh tears. 

"May I speak with you?" He asked tenderly, warmth in his eyes as if to offset the mood. Thranduil swallowed and nodded.

"Of course, what is it?" He asked weakly, walking slowly to his chair and lowering himself into it. 

"Alfrid Lickspittle. He may be talented, and you do look positively lovely in those robes, but he is a weasle, King Thranduil, and will betray you to the highest bidder without thought. I shouldn't like you to fall afoul of his tricks. Many in Laketown did."

Thranduil waved his hand dismissively. 

"Nonsense. If he tries anything then I'll kill him with my bare hands." He shrugged, caressing his stomach lovingly. 

"Besides, this is a fresh start for everyone. Do you not   
believe he deserves a clean start?" 

Bard shook his head firmly, before Thranduil finished even, and Smaug quirked a brow, sitting on the arm of the chair and also stroking his Elf's stomach lightly. 

"What has he been known to do?" 

"Oh, he's just an awful person generally. He gets people in trouble for doing their jobs, he's power mad I say. He'll take everything to himself just to spite everyone yet he whines as if the days are ending that nobody likes him. He's a wretch and a filthy opportunist."   
Bard clenched his fists, looking to the Dragonking with venom in his eyes. 

"Don't be so petty. Your personal vendetta is nothing to do with us. It is no business of yours who tailors my clothes, just as it is none of his who advises us."   
Thranduil shot. Bard swallowed his anger at this and clenched his fists Harder.   
He breathed, resolving to shadow the Elf whenever he was around the other for good measure.

"Very well My Lor-"

"It's kicking." Smaug murmured softly, face aglow with pride and adoration as he felt stirring beneath the robe. Thranduil's face mirrored his, and it caused the bowman's anger to all but drain away.

"Come and feel, Bard." Thranduil smiled.

 - - - - 

"Might I suggest a sky blue velvet? With silver embroidery." Alfrid proposed, bringing a sample of the material from his bag and taking it to Thranduil, looking around the room to find it conveniently devoid of servants.

"I like it. Can you give it a high neckline?" Thranduil asked thoughtfully. He caressed the material with his thumb and delighted in the quality of it.

"Most certainly. In the meantime, perhaps my lord would accept a toast, to my needing to tailor his robes?" He winked, advancing slightly too swiftly upon Thranduil for his own liking. 

"I can't drink, remember?" The Elf smiled fondly, shaking his head and ignoring the dark glint in Alfrid's eye. 

"About the neckline-"

"No, I think you will drink this." The tailor murmured, traipsing behind the armchair upon which Thranduil sat and wrapping a firm hand around his mouth, pulling out a dagger with the other hand. Thranduil's eyes widened with fear and he tried to cry out, only to be silenced with a gentle stab to the throat.

"No use in any of that nonsense. Your precious dragon is at a council meeting, remember?" Alfrid whispered into the king's pointed ear, burying his nose into his hair in the process. Thranduil was, for all intents and purposes, incredibly beautiful, and it would never happen again that he should exercise such power over him.   
Under different circumstances, he may have made him strip, taken him roughly right on the chair and silenced him with his threats. 

The Elf's current laboured and fearful breathing was doing well to fuel these images. But no, no...not today. He had a job to do, and was being paid good money to do it.   
He kept a firm hand around the other's mouth, and Thranduil knew that there was little he could do without risking damage to the baby. 

The tailor's other arm reached into his pocket and pulled out a phial of the potent sedative that the dwarf lord had sent him, and he poured a generous amount of it into a crystal goblet, lifting it to Thranduil's lips. 

"Drink this and you won't feel a thing of what's about to happen. You'll wake up in the same circumstances as you lost your consciousness." He lied, moving face Thranduil and remove his hand from his mouth, wrapping it around his soft throat instead. 

"Don't drink it, and you die. And the baby dies. Right now." Thranduil looked defiantly up at the tailor, ignoring the stress that wracked his mind and body.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to threaten me in this way?" He spat despite the firm compress around his throat, and overcame his fear to slam the goblet out of the other's hand before he could prepare. His eyes seared with an icy fury. Alfrid growled low in his throat.

"You are here by hospitality of myself and the great DragonKing of Erebor, and you make to our child?!" The Elf made to get up but it was just a second too slow and laborous, and Alfrid snarled and swiftly backhanded the other across his porcelain cheek.

"WHO SENT YOU TO DO THIS?!" Thranduil bellowed, the force around his neck beginning to weaken him. He spluttered slightly, holding his ground.

"I'll tell you," Alfrid heaved, nostrils flaring with anger as he brought the dagger back up to the Elf's throat, pressing it harshly. Thranduil levelled his breathing with as much composure as possible, so his scramble for oxygen did not push him further into the knife.

"I'll tell you because right after I do I'm going to slit your throat, you little whore!"

"Who?!" Thranduil spat. 

"DAIN IRONFO-" He was cut off suddenly and with a wet slosh ringing through the air and a blink, he was yanked back from the Elvenking and forced to the floor by a furious Bard, hitting his head severely as his fell.

Thranduil heaved with relief and trembled with fear, looking gratefully up at his saviour before a sharp sting around his throat caught his attention. He raised his hand to blood, too much blood, and his eyes filled to the brim with a whole new intensity of fear. It was too deep.  
He panicked, chest rising and falling as Bard rushed to him in horror. 

"B-Bard..." he stammered, looking to the bowman, who had one hand wrapped around his throat to compress the wound and the other holding his trembling face for comfort.

"Shhhh..shhh it's okay, we'll get you healed, just let me take you to the infirmary -" he said as calmly as he could manage, attempting to control his own levels of fear and panic and quaking with his effort. 

"S-save the baby...p-promise me..." Thranduil begged, letting out a weak sob of pain before he felt consciousness begin to escape him.

"No! No, no no no, come on, I have you, you'll be fine, come on..." words like this phased in and out of his mind, and he vaguely felt as though he was being lifted, but then he was gone.


End file.
